ed young and comparatively innocent. Fredericks
ambled over, taking his time about it. The clerk looked up and smiled
distantly. "Yes, sir?"

"You've got a man registered here," Fredericks said, in crisp,
official tones. "He gave the name of John P. Jones--"

The clerk was consulting a card file. "Yes, sir," he said brightly.
"Room 1014."

"He's at work on an FBI matter," Fredericks said. "Naturally, this is
private and confidential--"

"Naturally," the clerk said in a subdued tone. "But I--"

"I'm assigned to work with him," Fredericks said. "You understand."

"Of course, sir," the clerk said, trying to look as if he did.

Fredericks took a deep breath. "I know he's here, but I don't know his
room number," he said. "Some red-tape mixup."

"He's in 1014," the clerk said hopefully.

Fredericks shook his head. "Not that," he said. "The real room number.
Look, I've got to get to him immediately--"

"Of course, sir," the clerk said. "Identification, sir?"

Fredericks grinned and fished in pockets. Naturally, he didn't come up
with a thing, FBI identification was infra-red tested, totally
unmistakable and unavailable to non-Operatives under any circumstances
whatever. "Got it here some place," he muttered.

The clerk nodded. "Of course, sir," he said. "No need to waste time. I
understand."

Fredericks stopped and stared. "You what?"

"The room, sir, is 1212," the clerk said. "Would you like me to
accompany you--"

"No thanks," Fredericks breathed. "I'll find it myself." The man was
too easy to find, he thought savagely. It ought to be tough to find
him--but it's easy.

Remotely, that idea bothered him. But what difference did it make,
after all? He had all the protection in the world. He had all the
protection he was going to need. And all the time to fire one shot.
Doing it blindfolded was going to be tough, but not insuperably tough.
Fredericks had spent a week practicing, and he could locate a fly by
sound within two inches, nineteen times out of twenty. That, he
thought, was going to be good enough.

Upstairs, the Psi Operative thought so, too.

There had to be a way out, he told himself desperately.

But he couldn't find it.

He couldn't even come close.

* * * * *

On the way to Room 1212, he flipped on the shield, the mask, the
binder field. Now let the superman try something, he thought wildly.
Now let him try his tricks! He attached the blindfold as he got